


Happy Families

by brownwidow



Series: Press the Eject and Give Me the Tape [1]
Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drug Use, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, NOT mpreg its all done with unspecified super science, Pete White is also the boys dad, Secret Relationship, Super Science Logic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownwidow/pseuds/brownwidow
Summary: Rusty Venture and Pete White have been secretly seeing one another for almost a decade now. One day Rusty decides he wants to be a father, and that Pete is going to be one too.
Relationships: Rusty Venture/Pete White
Series: Press the Eject and Give Me the Tape [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991785
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Namesake is based on the Blancmange album “Happy Families”. Sorry i’ve developed a habit of writing more brief chapters but it should get longer as I go.  
> The boys are made with the power of something something vague super science logic.

Pete White’s third season hosting Quizboys had wrapped up filming. Technically it wasn’t really a “season”, rather a few weeks of back to back filming. By this year he mastered a film set diet of cocaine and coffee, obviously mixed together as not to set a bad example for the kids on set. The work wasn’t fun, hot lights and caked with makeup to cover his albinism. But, the fat paycheck expected at the end of filming was enough to keep up the song and dance. On the final day he practically skipped out of the studio and hopped on a plane. Eagerly awaiting the grassy green coast to turn to striped green bellbottoms on an old friend.

“I’m surprised you aren’t wearing your whole,” Rust completed the statement with a circular gesture to White’s face. The albino furrowed his brows, drumming on the handle of his rolling briefcase.

The two trailed behind a bodyguard, who was preoccupied trying to remember where they parked. It wasn’t Myra for a change, whom was currently on OSI probation for literally  _ mauling  _ a person. But it meant they couldn’t take the jet, stuck to the shitty little blue buggy Rust got from his father. The guard, a homey looking woman, would glance back at them occasionally and mutter something to herself. Drastically better than worrying about, well, getting mauled by a deranged blonde in a catsuit.

“People’ll recognize me, Rust” The redhead cracked a smile and walked a bit closer besides him. Enough to enter his personal bubble, their fingers touched for a brief moment, Rust then slotted his hand back into his bellbottom pockets. “I didn’t take a plane out here to talk t’fans, ya know”

“Really! And I was just about to ask for your autograph.”

“Let me guess, you’re my biggest fan,” White rolled his eyes and entered the car after Rust, plopping the bag straight into the redhead’s lap. “I got a few in my bag just for you.”

* * *

White shuddered, letting out a mix of a gasp and Rusty’s name into the nape of said man’s neck. They sat there for a moment, Rust tracing his fingers up and down the man’s pale back. White wasn’t as skinny as he was when they started this whole thing back in college, actually a bit heavy on top of him right now. He drummed on the man’s back a little now, since he wasn’t really moving, too much deadweight to push off. White took the hint and rolled off next to him, picking ginger hair out of his mouth.

“Nice,”

“Yeah, pally” The man sighed, eyes half lidded. 

“Don’t call me that after we just had sex”

“Fine,” White rolled on his side, pulling the covers up over himself so all that peeked out was white hair and ruby eyes “That was nice,  T.S. ”

“Damn right it was.” Rust pawed at his nightstand for his glasses and a hairband. His hairline was receding a little still, probably from stress, but reasonable enough to keep down to his shoulder-blades. Rebellion against his dad, and the group of assholes he left behind as “supervision” after he died.

Pete and Rusty’s relationship couldn’t really be considered a rebellion, since neither his dad, Team Venture, hell, even Myra didn’t know about it. It had started as a one time thing in college, which turned to two, then they were finding themselves making plans over the phone for coffee or staying more than just the night. Sometimes White would come over and they wouldn’t even fuck, or kiss, just sit around in comfortable silence and watch Rusty work. These things.. made him feel.. wanted. He didn’t want to admit he was lonely, that it only ever seemed White was the one who cured it even beyond sex. He didn’t want to acknowledge the elephant in the room that was the affection felt between them.

“You’re creeping me out with the staring, Rust.” White abandoned the opportunity for pillow-talk, getting up and changing into an outfit he had packed. Rust joined him. It was good to have him back.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why you decided to move into this piece of crap is beyond me,” Rusty’s brows were knitted together, watching from the doorway as White unpacked the last of his belongings onto a dusty boxspring mattress.  The trailer was a piece of crap, yes, but it was a steal off of craigslist even if it meant clearing all the garbage and dust inside it. Rusty had been no help. Even the recently returned Myra just stood around cross armed, watching Pete prepare the place for human occupancy. She looked more ragged since she came back from whatever hole OSI put her in. Rusty sighed, adjusting his glasses, “There’s plenty of empty buildings on the compound”.

“And what, you’d be my landlord? I’m good here, pally” Brushing past Rusty, he went to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. It wasn’t that bad, it had electricity and running water right out if the gate- he jerked his hands back upon seeing the tap cough up a brown sludge. “It just needs some TLC.”

* * *

_ A grown man letting out a girlish scream isn’t exactly the best reaction if one wants to maintain any pride. But a disheveled, blood soaked woman throwing open the door while you are brushing your teeth is one of the few scenarios that warrant such a scream.  _

_ “Hi Peter,” Myra sing songed. Behind her he could see glass shards leading in from the now shattered sliding glass door that went into the guest room.  _ How did he not hear that? _ “There was a guild agent outside while I was on my way to ask you an itty bitty question!” _

_ “Y-yeah?” His voice quivered, caged in by the raging aura being put off by this woman. She was smiling but her eyes reflected back only murderous intentions. _

_ “How long do you plan on remaining here?” She chirped, pushing past him to wash her hands in the sink, remaining eye contact through the mirror. Her hands hovered over the sink as she let the tap run, arms up to her shoulders caked in blood. “I think 2 weeks has been long enough, don’t you, Peter?” _

* * *

“Sure looks like it,” The ginger sneered, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

“Fuck off” He smacked the hand away, “I think it’s nice to get a change of scenery. Plus this place isn’t so bad!”

“Right, ‘ _TLC_ ’.” Rust snickered, dipping in again to hug the man around the waist. White was glaringly taller, the man’s face nuzzled up against his shoulder blade, emitting a less than seductive purr. “Maybe I can come over sometime and help you with some _TLC_.. sneak out when Myra’s passed out from whatever OSI’s been giving her.”

“Bring some bottled water with you when you do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry all of these are so short but I also kinda like writing shorter chapters now? Theres probably going to be more than 5 chapters at this point.

“You like what you see?”

“You’re acting like i’ve never seen your King Crimson record before”

“Pete, this is a _near mint, first pressing_ of Court of The Crimson King!” Rust was flush with pride over the acquisition, eyes sparkling still as he carefully placed it back with the collection he kept in the CCTV room. Now forced into White’s arms was another record, or rather, one poorly wrapped in yellowed Christmas wrapping paper. With some difficulty he freed the record from its santa patterned confinement. A copy of the self titled The Birthday Party album, which Doc leaned over and tapped a finger on. “I saw the name and thought it’d be something you listen to.”

“Mh, you guessed correctly,” Pete cracked a smile, “What do you want?”

“ _What_?”

“You give me stuff like this when you want to ask me something,”

“No I don’t- god, Pete” Rusty scoffed, pushing his glasses up and running a hand though his hair a few times anxiously. “Look, i’ve been thinking about this for a while, since you got back from California. It’s.. it’s.. ugh. White, I want to... continue... have... a second chance.”

Doc was pale, visibly sweating by now which only worried White.

“I want to have a chance to do something good, to be better.. than.. my dad was with me. Damnit, okay look, I’m going to be a father.” Doc was practically panting, staring holes into the wall as to not fully face White. Who was sitting, jaw clenched and pink eyes widened.

They sat there for a while. A long silence with nothing but the monitors buzzing besides them.

“Please tell me you haven’t been saving my used condoms,” White blurted out with a terrified laugh, more of a honk than anything. It was all he could manage to articulate and it received a hard slap across the face.

“No you fucking jackass, i’m _asking you_ to have a baby with me! I want to have a kid, I want the world to have a Venture that wasn’t raised by a fucking psychopath!” White could see, as they stared each other down, that the man was crying. “You’re the only p-person. I-I want to do th-this and I can only do it with you.” 

* * *

“Basically in layman’s terms, this functions as a way to combine two specimen’s DNA and create an offspring without using traditional methods of reproduction.” Rusty knocked on one of the many large chambers that lined the room in rows. “It’s mostly tying loose ends to the blueprints my father never finished. So at this stage, the only viable embryos are these two.”

The plan was to tell Myra she’s the mother. It was a reluctant decision but they had decided it would be the best choice. Rusty and Pete had maintained a mutual agreement over the past decade that their relationship would remain behind closed doors. Myra seemed on the uptick anyway due to OSI’s... treatment?... and was the most persuadable candidate anyway. 

“Well i’m still honored you picked me of all people,” The giddiness in Myra’s voice, the look in her eyes as she stared into the green liquid under the assumption her DNA was apart of the floating new lives conceived through science. With the man she so visibly obsessed over, worshiped, killed for. Although he tried to hide it, the guilt Pete had to repress for the better still stung. Even if he didn’t like Myra, even if he wanted OSI to drag her away forever. White looked into the glass and saw his reflection. Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Myra :/


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re certainly more chipper than usual, White. I’m guessing the off season went well for you?”

Three episodes have gone back to back this week, the fourth one tomorrow. The elevation in White’s mood even with the crunch had been enough for the producer of all people to follow him back to his dressing room. Which meant extra time caked with makeup.

“Yeah pally, I... I had a good one.”

* * *

“Okay, I like these the most.” White snatched the pen out of the other man’s hand and circled a few from the gigantic list of names they had brainstormed. Together the two had singled out four.

_ Allen _

_ Dean _

_ Henry _

_ Peter Jr _

“I’m not doing- Peter Junior? You’re the one who said not to name the kids after us.”

“We aren’t having a kid named “Thaddeus Junior”! Fine, _fine,_ no Pete Junior. I like Dean, That’s one you came up with?”

Rusty proudly nodded, grabbing White’s hand in his own and putting a large check next to the name in agreement.

“Dean, _aaand_.. hmm. To be frank with you, I like the last two just the same, pally.”

“We should’ve put Frank on the list!”

“Frank is a girl’s name, Rust! And-“

“Shut up shut up, Henry can be shortened tooo,” The ginger scribbled onto the page with knitted brows of pure parental confidence. “Hank! _Hank and Dean_ , huh? Rolls off the tongue.”

“But, Ruhhh-st, then we have to drop Allen.” He rested his head on the smaller man’s shoulder. Something about the whole situation made him feel so light and airy.

“We’ll make it the middle name of whoever’s born first.”

Henry got the middle name. 

The whole “birth” was rather anti-climatic. A timer went off on each chamber, which drained the weird green goo, opening up with a mechanical ‘ _whoosh_ ’. With Myra hovering over the two it prevented White from doing any of the “new father” stuff like holding them sentimentally, but he at least got to help wash and swaddle them. Dean was the more fussy of the two, kept crying and crying long after Hank had stopped. It made White feel a weird feeling he never felt before, and it was rather frustrating to only have Rusty (and later HELPeR) able to tend to the twins.

Myra luckily had no commentary, just paced around a bunch and twiddled her thumbs. Thank god.

* * *

“Things are going fine, White. Myra’s been a pain in my ass lately but she’s still keeping the agreement.” Myra had reluctantly agreed that she had only donated her dna and that she wouldn’t be “mothering” at all. In general she seems hands off now when it came to body-guarding and had spent more time just patrolling the compound.

“How’s the Quizboy thingie?”

“Well that ginger kid has been doing pretty well. Reaaal winning streak, making viewership spike too. Bosses still want us to have the right answers displayed, but I don’t think it’ll ever come to that.”

“I’m still not happy you can’t be here.”

“I’m not too happy about it either, okay? You have HELPeR at least there with you until I get back.” Rusty grunted with frustration on the other end, then a sigh.

“Peter,” Hearing Rusty say his full name made him tense up, gripping the phone with attentiveness. “Listen, just because we’re doing this whole facade doesn’t mean I don’t really want you here with me, us. As far as anyone knows you are helping your best friend with his newborns, but having you here is... really nice. So hurry up with your fucking gameshow please.”

White was hung up on. He felt strange again, putting down the phone slowly, staring into the mirror a little. He had 5 minutes till show time and he still didn’t have his makeup done. He wanted to go home.


	5. Chapter 5

The amount of work he was able to do was significantly limited, at least with Myra not doting on him every waking moment, some progress could be made. HELPeR could only manage so much for a singular robot, not only maintaining a large part of the compound, but now aiding in the care of two new infants. So Doc had to make up for some of the work, including having them in the lab with him.

Even though the twins could barely hold their own heads up, the lab as with most of the house had been baby proofed. Doc had woken up one morning to find Myra had done all the work herself in the span of one evening. How he hadn’t noticed was beyond him, but it wasn’t _technically_ breaking any rules. Saved him the time. 

Having the boys with him in the lab, in matching “Venture Industry” bassinets he had dug up out of the dusty stock of short lived branded merchandising attempts. It was nice, but it meant no work with anything “hazardous” or “loud”. Meant he was really stuck fiddling with hand tools and reading through old blueprints his father left incomplete when he dropped dead. His breaks usually consisted of watching the babies sleep or taking care of them if they were fussy until HELPeR came to aid. Although dealing with the new tiring experiences of childcare, he always had this little warm feeling of parental affection in his chest. Something he never felt from his father. He was proud to at least give these new Ventures this experience. 

* * *

“He’s not answering the fucking phone,” The phone missed the receiver, hitting the floor with a loud clack of linoleum and plastic. Rusty growled and kicked it in frustration. Myra shrugged, picking dirt out from under her nails with the menacing knife she carried around.

“Peter’s probably just busy with whatever he does,” She sheathed her knife upon HELPeR’s presentation of breakfast. Pancakes and bacon for doc, bottles for the twins, raw egg in a glass of protein powder and god knows what else for Myra. “With that whole thing in the newspaper”.

“That gives him even _more_ of a reason to answer my calls!” Dean stirred, whining a little, which was enough to shut his father up. Rusty sighed and surrendered to the table to pick at his own food. “I’m worried about him”.

“A little _too_ worried in my opinion,” The raggedy blonde drank her hell-drink like a shot, the film it left behind in the glass was foul in itself. “If you’re so concerned about taking care of the boys you should just let me help. I’m their mother after all-“

“Don’t start this with me, Myra!” An aggressive whisper directed towards her along with a point from his fork. She crossed her arms, tight enough that veins were bulging along the forearms. The tension in the air recently was thick enough that Myra could’ve cut it with her knife.

* * *

_ “Why couldn’t’ve you just listened to me,” Rusty sighed into the other man’s lips, tracing a kiss to the albino’s earlobe. “I could have given you that space on the compound. Could have picked out- picked out a couch, we wouldn’t have to be doing this on this shitty window-seat.” _

_ “Don’t do this now,  _ please _ ,” He would’ve been more mad at the badgering if it wasn’t for the fact that, he was  _ really enjoying _ what was happening in this moment. “I like my place, I like you visiting me instead of the other way around. I like what-  _ ah _ \- what you’ve doing right now, not the annoying me, cut that out.” _

_ “I still like you visiting me though, can you promise to still do when you get back?” _

_ “Promise” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here begins the actual canon divergence.


	6. Chapter 6

_ There was a spot, far off at the edges of campus, where they would go. Smoke shitty weed and drink warm beer without Mike or Werner bugging them. To be alone and look up at the starry sky, full and vast and untouched by light pollution. Tonight the moon was full, illuminating the patch of field they settled on. _

_ From the trip there to the moment now, sitting with finger entwined, it was silent. Nothing but crickets and owls and whatever nocturnal filled the white noise around them. A comfortable silence, broken only by the pop of beer cans or the click of White’s cheap, pink lighter.  _

_ Now it was just them, alone. Together, features just barely visible by blue moonlight as they turned to one another. Mutual feelings, of hearts racing together, electric, a moment away. Like a scene from a shitty romance movie. Their teeth clacked, and Rusty split his lip on Pete’s braces. First kiss. _

* * *

Albinism isn’t an inherent guarantee to be passed on to the next generation. Had you not seen a picture of White’s family, whom lacked his silvery white hair and pale skin, you would not have seen a resemblance in Hank or Dean. They were certainly Venture children, although Dean had darker hair than Rusty, probably from White’s non albino side, and Hank had blond hair, possibly from some of White’s own albinism. 

They certainly weren’t hers.

“Why did you let her come back here? You knew she was fucking crazy you and would stop taking her meds you pieces of sh-“ The metal lab door groaned, contorting enough that two hands reached through and pawed around for the lock.

“You liar! Youuu lied to me- to me you liar! Liar! Pants on fire!” She had somehow gotten ahold of HELPeR, who was apparently trying to further barricade the lab door, and was shaking him around violently. She had somehow gotten ahold of the data from the incubation project, she knew.

“Why didn’t you fucking listen to me, why did you-“

* * *

“-ignore me! You left me alone with her, and- and you fucking disappeared and showed up with some- with some teenager!” Rusty jabbed a finger in the direction of the boy. Billy, who was sitting on the steps outside with HELPeR and two crying babies, watching the OSI vehicles pull away. 

“I was driving on a scooter all the way over here, pally. I didn’t have a phone on me-“

“Then why didn’t you use a pay phone?! I could’ve gotten you a plane ticket- oh my god. I can’t believe you, fucking abandoning me to show up with some freaking kid. Asking me to fucking hire him after my bodyguard tried to kill our children!”

“ _Our_ children? Weren’t you the one who wanted this whole “secret” shit? You’re the one who insisted to lie to that psycho bitch!” White was clenching his teeth hard enough that they could shatter. “You always just-“

Billy peeked over his shoulder. This was... so humiliating, watching them fighting about him. The boy put his head in his hands with a defeated groan. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

A few moments later the door swung open, White trudging down the entrance steps, seething with rage that he had never seen from the man.

“I guess he said no on the job.”

“Sure, whatever. Get on the bike, we’re leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye Myra.


	7. Chapter 7

“White? _Whi-ite_?” He was startled by the metallic knock on the bathroom, accidentally spilling the white powder, which he had been about to snort, off his hand and into the sink.

“Ahh fucking hell- what is it Billy?” He called, trying to salvage whatever he could. Slightly damp now, more of a paste, he rubbed the minuscule amount on his gums. Opening the door, he looked down at the ginger teen that had recently taken residency in his trailer too. After vanishing for a few months, the boy showed back up with a robotic hand and one less eye.

“It’s for you,” Billy held the phone out. He must’ve been told to allow him some privacy, given he vacated the trailer shortly after.

“Pete White speaking,”

“You know how Myra got taken away, and I got some OSI agent here, till they get me a new bodyguard?” Rusty, monotone on the other end. The last time he sounded this way was when he told him he was dropping out, returning home. The last time either of them spoke was when he stormed out. “Someone got past the perimeter defenses while I was in the lab.”

“ _Oh my god_. Are you okay?” Rusty responded with a whimper, trying to find an actual answer but choking on his words.

“They’re- the agent got him but- the-“

* * *

A few months ago he was riding high, on a wave towards Quizboy undefeated. Now, he was sitting on the stairs of a trailer, baking in the heat on the side of a desert highway. 

One day he woke up amnesiac, half blind with a metal hand. Under the new guardianship of the gameshow host that ruined his life, and only let him stay as a way to makeup for doing so. This new life was strange, like weight on his shoulders had been both lifted and made heavier. Something about Mr White had changed between the time Billy lost his memory to when he regained consciousness. The change must’ve effected him too, whatever happened between him and Rusty Venture prior to the boy’s blackout. The call today had been the first time he heard his (now former) idol since they met the first time. He had hoped it would be a recruitment to be mentored by the scientist, but once more it was only about White.

Billy had wanted to ease drop, find out what was so important he had to go outside. Through the metal door it was impossible to hear beyond White’s muffled voice. Just as he was about to give up there was a loud thump from inside the trailer. 

“Are you okay in there, White?” No answer, only a loud whine. Worrisome enough for him to brave through defying Rusty’s order, entering the trailer again. White was crumpled on the floor, clutching the phone in his hand. Billy stood in the doorway, unsure what to do about the hyperventilating, crying man. He was watching this for a few minutes before White collected himself just enough to look up at him.

“They’re dead.”


	8. Chapter 8

_ “Do I really have to sleep on this?” _

_ “Yes, trailers don’t have spare rooms or anything, and i’m not letting a 15 year old sleep in my bed,” White threw a pillow and spare blanket down onto the trailer’s window seat “Unless you want to sleep on the floor”. _

* * *

His hand could use some fine tuning. It was shiny and new but his mobility was greatly limited. Perhaps it was just getting used to it, examining and memorizing every little detail of a new appendage. There was nothing better to do besides stare at the ceiling or pretend to sleep. White had locked himself in his room for the night, but would let himself out to pace around inside and out, or go into the bathroom to dry wretch for long periods of time. The man was rapidly looking more and more terrible since he got the call about the death of Rusty’s children. Terrible even if Billy only met them once, crying in the arms of a blue robot, HELPeR. White’s _reaction_ was even more worrying, as he didn’t seem to pay them any attention when he stormed out of the compound after arguing with their father. His relationship to them as far as Billy knew wouldn’t’ve warranted such a breakdown.

* * *

Under different circumstances, being in the laboratory of his idol, hell, surrounded by Venture technologies, would’ve been a major life event for Billy. The inside of the compound was actually... underwhelming compared to what he had seen in the cartoons and press photos from when Jonas Venture was still alive. No one worked there besides Rusty, besides his busied butler-bot. Empty, cold, lots of dust and long unfinished projects.

After a very depressing lunch, which was forced onto them solely because White hadn’t eaten in numerous days due to his chronic breakdown, Rusty allowed Billy to occupy himself with some new blueprints he had been working on, primitive stage to some “major project”. Access to the backlogs whenever Billy got bored with that. White was elsewhere with the man, in another room that even the interim OSI agent was allowed in (much to their protest). Curiosity was getting the better of the boy. White really was miserable, upset about this. More so than Rusty. Well, from what White told him, Rusty was rather numb to everything in general from the whole “boy adventurer” thing. Really put a damper on the thing, the name, he had been fantasizing about since he was a little kid. Rusty’s behavior was more of a shut down, he talked at a monotone and his eyes were glazed over. A 180 from his first impression, empty.

Despite the thin layer of dust that coated most of the place, it was rather neat. Rusty, or perhaps his robot, kept house down to filing (alphabetically!) the (monstrous amounts!) of archived blueprints and concepts of work (completed...! or abandoned). Skimming his thumb along the many manilla folders he found one to be strangely empty. The only one unaccounted, for which he carefully removed from its spot. 

The tab, written in the theatrical handwriting of Jonas Venture, read:

> _ Cloning_


	9. Chapter 9

Hopefully this punishment wouldn’t be permanent. It was certainly a downgrade from action packed, blood pumping fieldwork. Sure, this was the kid of fricken Jonas Venture. He was being assigned to look over someone who’s likeness was plastered on basically _everything_ when he was a kid. Now this was a sad, balding adult who’s only media presence now was about what a sad, balding adult he lived up to be. A “where are they now” who lived in the husk of a legendary science headquarters.

“I know you’re still settling in and all, but if you’re going to be my new bodyguard you might as well see what you’re in for”.

Very weird, seeing a room full of slimy copies of the two children sitting in front of him currently. Their father was uncomfortably peppy about showing him that section of the lab. He admitted it was “ _a little overkill_ ” given the kids “ _only died the one time_ ”, that “ _it was two years ago_ ” but he was “ _keeping this around just in case_ ”. Just in case what. They died again? What the hell was this washed up child star be doing to warrant his kids dying even once?

The whole tour felt so.. rehearsed down to every witty comment, and once the script ended his new ward just switched off completely. Once the lab was locked the jokes were over, and now he was sitting with him eating fucking egg salad sandwiches with him and his resurrected toddlers. Kids he admitted to of made in said lab, with the same equipment, in the fucking first place!

“What’s that?” The blond one of the pair, Hank, had been asking him questions the moment Brock walked into the room. Barely touched his food, while on the other hand, his brother had finished most of his without a word to him. Hank was now reaching over to grab curiously at the leather holster that held his knife. Brock felt his brain want to instinctively retaliate, but remembered this was a 2 year old and one he had been assigned do the opposite.

“Knife” Brock grunted.

“Do you use it to make sandwiches?”

“Instead of asking him that how about you eat the one HELPeR made you” His father interrupted the Q&A by re-presenting Hank said sandwich for the hundredth time so far. And for the _hundredth time_ he refused. 

As expected, the punishment which he hoped was temporary, was off to a mundane start. The week was spent unpacking into his new quarters, babysitting, polishing his car. Only real fun was killing some trespassers in butterfly costumes who pissed their pants upon seeing that Brock Samson was guarding this dweeb’s family now. Even then, the most blood he got to see was a scrape on Dean’s knee after Hank had pushed him. This was... a nanny job. He was a nanny now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Brock


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy chapter 10!

_ “Tonight i’m having a colleague over, so i’m going to need you to watch the boys,” Doc had asked him, as if he wasn’t already doing that. “Consider it your first mission! I’ll call you on the communicator when he gets here so you uh, don’t kill him”. _

_ “...Communicator?” _

_ “The watch I gave you, it has a-... Crap, I didn’t take it back from the last guy” _

He had no real interest in prying on the details of the “mission” until the alleged colleague arrived. A slender, ghostly pale man who rode in on a moped, dressed rather casually in jeans and a satin jacket with a _Q_ on the back. 

“Hey, aren’t you Rust’s old roommate?” The man propped his ride up on its’ kickstand. “You beat us up that one time. Kinda funny that you’re the guy _protecting_ him now”

College wasn’t exactly a lucid experience, so he just shrugged and puffed a bit of cigarette smoke out his nostrils. For someone claiming to be a colleague, he seemed rather familiar with the Venture patriarch.

“You shouldn’t really smoke around them,” The twins were sprawled out on the front steps to the main compound. Dean was occupied with some picture book, while Hank stared attentively at an anthill. Like with Doc, Brock put his cigarette out in his mouth and spit it on the ground.

* * *

“I said to act like you’re here for _science stuff_ ,” White was presented another unpalatable Doc-Tail. Rusty was the host, so there was no choice but to choke them down. The other man had breezed through enough to be wasted by the time White even had a buzz going.

“Guess I forgot,” White swiveled back and forth on his stool. The twins were in the house being babysit by the new guard, Brock. So their night would be spent within the confines of the Venture lab. “Not like we’re doin’ any science stuff anyway, ha”.

“I think mixology can be considered a kind of science”

“Isn’t one you’re too good at then.”

“Becoming a great scientist requires trial and error, White! That’s what.. makes good science,” Rusty drifted off, distracted by the little umbrella he had forgotten to place in White’s drink. He spun it around in his fingertips, before leaning over to stick it in White’s drink.

_ “See? It’s like it never happened,” Rusty whispered to White. They really were... alive, quietly sleeping through their afternoon nap. He should feel happy, but he didn’t. He felt... wrong, sick, the past month had been miserable. But, White had to hide it now. The boys were both alive in front of him, but the phonecall, the trip to the lab, it would never be erased. _

_ “Jesus, White, are you crying?” _

Two years. 

He was a reluctant outsider who had to bottle his feelings up, about his relationship, about his children. Not even Billy, who had been living with him all this time, who had seen him writhe on the floor in agony, knew about this. The only way to know the boys were growing up were through calls with Rusty. After he would feel so empty inside. They had made a pact of secrecy.

“Mmmhhhhuhhh, Pete” Rusty slumped over, resting his head against White’s chest. He almost spilt his drink, having to grab Doc as his stool slid out from under him. The ginger was standing now, not having noticed. “I like you, lots”

“Oh really? Haven’t noticed”

“Shhhut up, I really- i’m glad I have you. I wish things were different” Rusty was now rubbing White’s arms endearingly, glasses also digging into the man’s collarbone. “In a good way, where we don’t have to do this crap. Because I-“

“...You?”

“Want to.. to be together” The man arms went slack around White’s shoulders. “Fuck what people have to say, my dad orrr team venture... or whatever, I want... the whole... thing...”

The man passed out, standing up in White’s embrace. He sat there holding him, staring blankly at the little umbrella in his drink. In that moment he felt everything. And how mad White was about him passing out.

“I want the whole thing too, pally”


	11. Chapter 11

“Geezus Christ, would it kill you to put a pair of pants on?” White shielded his eyes, more in reaction to his hangover than to Billy sitting half naked in his little corner of the trailer.

“Maybe if you’d go out of your way to buy an air conditioning unit I wouldn’t have to resort to this” The boy scoffed, wiping sweat from his brow. It was pretty hot out, an oppressive summer heat only amplified by the trailer being a giant tin can. The massive amount of fans filling the room did nothing but blow hot air around at this point.

“Well i’m like- almost 40, and maybe I don’t wanna see a teenage boy waltzing around in his underwear, ‘kay?” He cleared the dishes off the counter, into the sink. Despite the heat, he made himself much needed coffee. “I can’t afford an AC right now anyway.”

“We could’ve bought one with all the money we’re dumping into our electric bill now” Billy mumbled, which White chose to ignore. He had enough on his mind and didn’t feel like adding more.

* * *

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” To make ends meet, White had taken up a tech support position. Computers were his strong point, and he could work at home with this, but talking to rude old people all day really made him not want to look at a computer again. Billy had taken up online courses in pursuit of a medical degree, so the least he could repay him was to stop mooching off a teenager to pay the bills. Still, he had no idea why the boy had chose to stay rather than move back home, wherever that was. 

“Whiiiite, phooooone” Billy called from the only other room.

“Tell them to leave a message, i’m still doing work. And can you make me some more coffee?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, the only thing he could manage before taking another call from another tech-stupid person.

“I’m not your butler” Billy walked in unannounced, handing over some coffee. Or rather the entire pot, out of spite from being bossed around. He had pants on at least. “Rusty wants you to call him back. Super hungover sounding, you really shouldn’t lie to me that you were doing _science stuff_ ”

“Mixology is a type of science, it literally has ‘ology’ in it!”

“Doesn’t make it a science ”

* * *

“Took you long enough to call back,” He indeed sounded very hungover. Unsurprising, as the man had drank enough Doc-Tails to give a horse alcohol poisoning. By the time White carried him back to his house, Brock had already put the boys to sleep and gone to bed. Spared him the embarrassment of trying to explain why Rust decided to get wasted while they were _working on a new project_. He always felt like he was under Brock’s microscope. 

“I have work, ya know? I’m not sitting around playing games all day, anymore”

“Yea yea. Doesn’t make up for you leaving me high and dry last night, I thought the lab was a romantic enough atmosphere” White’s eyes widened a little at the comment. Quickly, he turned his back to Billy, who was focused on tuning his hand.

“You were plastered, like, incredibly,” White whispered, even though Billy didn’t care about his phone conversations. It’s not like Billy didn’t know the two were good friends, but he still felt watched. “Do you even remember anything?”

“The last half was a blur, so not really” _This meant he doesn’t remember his admission._ It hit like a punch in the gut, and the pain lingered all up until this moment. “I had fun though I think, I feel like shit right now however”.

“Me too, pally. We- _I_ need to stop by and pick up my wallet. I think I left it in the lab somewhere.”

“I haven’t seen it- wait- let me guess, Billy is listening again? I really should just repair one of the old watches and give you it, so we can... _talk_ more” The man purred, even over the phone he could see Rusty smiling lewdly, “Soooo~ when do you want to stop in?”

“I can just head over now, please turn the perimeter defenses off this time? I’m lucky I wasn’t pulled over last night for a vaporized taillight on my bike”

“No promises~”

“Bye, Rusty”


	12. Chapter 12

He really should feel excited for White to be coming over again, but instead he was burning a hole in the carpet with his pacing. Less of a hangover spoiling the mood, rather crashing waves of anxiety, _also_ amplified by a hangover. He had already popped a few of his pills and all he could do was wait, wait for him to show up and for them to inevitably talk about what happened last night. The blackout was necessarily a lie, and he could easily use it to chalk up what he had told White (that is if the man remembers what happened), but the confession would remain.

“Uncle White!” The twins chirped in unison from the room over. The blood rushed out of Rusty’s head and he thought he would die then and there. But no, White was standing in the doorway now with two ecstatic children in tow. Only in death would he avoid confrontation.

“Rusty”

“Peter” The ginger fell into his usually defensive slouch, crossing his arms tight in an unconscious attempt to stifle his pounding heart. At least Pete looked cute standing there with his, their children, oozing with repressed parental affection. A scene that somehow made his heart ache, given the circumstances. “Boys, why don’t you see what Brock is up to?”

The boys scampered off, leaving the two the stare awkwardly at one another for a moment too long.

“Do you.. want a drink?”

“Its eleven in the morning,”

Rusty perched himself on the couch, inviting White to join him in the conversation pit. “So, i’m guessing you didn’t come over to tie up last night’s loose ends?”

“I am- not, not _those_ loose ends. I wanted to ask you in uh, person, if you remember.. if you remember what you told me last night,”

_Shit, shit shit shit shit shit_ “Ohhh, I was pretty out of it, hahaaaah, hopefully it wasn’t anything embarassing,” Rusty choked out. _That answer sounded so forced, you idiot._

White paused for a moment and twiddle his fingers, pursed lip and scrunched brows. _He fucking knows and he knows you know too._

“I need you to be honest to me. I.. I need to know,”

“I am being honest, I barely remember anything after the half dozen cocktails I h-“

“Thaddeus,” _Now he’s calling you Thaddeus, you liar, pants on fire._

He wasn’t mad though, forlorn.

“When you called two years ago, I felt like my world was falling apart. My career went to shit, i’m living in a trailer on the side of the road with some teenager. I was so mad at you, at myself, that you blamed me for what happened with Myra. And, and it was my fault, and I didn’t even get to... before they died. I blame myself everyday for what happened,” His pink eyes went glassy, and he stared off elsewhere, unable to make eye contact anymore, “I wanted so much with you, and knew I couldn’t because of... our agreement. It sucks everyday, being unable to watch them grow up. Haha, I’m actually so jealous of Brock, he’s more of their dad than I am.”

He knew he was crying, he couldn’t hold it in and he knew it was that type of ugly cry where your whole face contorts. It was the first time in a long time, decades. Not since he was a child, not yet broken and jaded and filled with self hatred. Rusty couldn’t help but laugh at this, White looking back at him bewildered at the response.

“I was really worried that you are mad at me about what I said to you,” The ginger pushed his glasses up to press his palms to his eyes, giggling and sniffling. “I practically chewed my fingernails off waiting for you to come over today”.

Looking up, he could see White’s eyes also welling up with tears, an awkward smile creeping over his pale face, now beginning to blotch up in preparation to inevitable crying. “Did you really mean what you said last night?”

“Everything, I’m so tired of doing this shit. Pretending that I don’t want this, worrying about people finding out about us.” He scooted closer, placing his hands on White’s. “I want to do this with you”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been nice,


End file.
